Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to Cruel Intentions, the ending would have been a thousand times more satisfying.

Notes: Once again, I have discarded the ending of the film to write this story, which takes place sometime after the accident.

The italicized segment is taken from two different sources and blended together. Several lines are taken directly from the original draft of the script, and other sections I borrowed from the draft that the movie was actually shot with.

He peeked.

True, the groom was not traditionally supposed to lay eyes on his bride until she was walking slowly towards him, towards the altar, in a cloud of white satin and lace. But Sebastian never had been one for tradition.

Annette looked beautiful, corseted in silk and satin, antique lace veil floating down over her blushing cheeks. Her blue eyes sparkled at him, laughing as her bridesmaids shooed him back into his own room, to wait by himself with a bottle of whiskey until the priest arrived.

London, one of the most cultured cities in the world, and all they could think to leave him with was a bottle of whiskey.

Sebastian sighed, eyeing the whiskey with distaste. He’d never drank whiskey, preferring the sharp taste of vodka or silky smooth gin, as opposed to the rough, uncouth taste of whiskey.

Kathryn had always drank whiskey, if he remembered correctly. He picked up the bottle, chuckling to himself, remembering her, reclining in the sunlight of their dayroom, feet propped up, eyes flashing at him from across the room, her dark hair long and loose.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and Sebastian felt a sense of relief. Now wasn’t the time to begin reminiscing about his stepsister. He hadn’t seen Kathryn since he’d been discharged from the hospital; he’d collected his things and rented a flat in London. Annette had been accepted to Oxford, and they’d played house for several years, before Sebastian had proposed.

If he was honest with himself, Sebastian knew that the only reason he’d proposed was because he felt trapped. Stuck in a routine he hadn’t chosen for himself, and he’d seen no other options.

He’d clung stubbornly to Annette for years, and he saw no reason to stop now. After all, he had nowhere else to go, no one else to pursue. Life had somehow passed him by, left him by the wayside, engaged to a virginal naive blonde, with memories of his dark stepsister and the flavor of her lips on his, dancing in his memories like a half-remembered song.

A song that he could never force himself to forget.

“Blane, it’s about damn time--” He said as he crossed the room, throwing the door open.

When he saw the figure standing on the other side of the door, his voice choked off and the song began throbbing in his ears, so loud he could barely hear himself think.

Kathryn.

“Blane couldn’t make it.” She said, moving gracefully into the room. “Or rather, he’s in the choir wing, fucking his boyfriend. He said he’d meet you at the altar, and for me to act in his stead until said time.”

She closed the door behind her, and slipped around him, and the heat of her body scorched him.

“How...Why are you here?” He demanded, shaking his head slowly.

“I do read newspapers, Valmont.” She sounded annoyed. “I’m not completely uncouth, our whole family has turned out to watch this sham of a ceremony. Why would I be foolish enough to miss the show?”

She poured herself a tumbler of whiskey and sipped it, dark eyes watching him over the rim.

“God, Kathryn, there’s a reason I didn’t invite you.”

“Oh, dear brother, you can’t still be mad with me over that silly little incident, all those years ago?”

“I almost died, Kathryn.” He snapped, clenching his fists.

“But you didn’t.” She said, sounding bored. “God, Valmont, if anyone has reason to be angry, if anyone has reason to be furious, it’s me. Have you forgotten the circumstances under which we parted ways?”

Sebastian closes his eyes, and suddenly that day is replaying behind his lids, and all he can see is Kathryn, perched half-naked on her bed.

“What happened to us?” She asked, so softly that he could barely hear her.

“Nothing has changed.” He told her, exasperated at her sudden display of weakness.

“Yes, it has. You love her. You don’t love me anymore.” She whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. He stares, shocked, hating her for crying, hating her for having the nerve to display the heart that he’d assumed was long dead.

“Oh come on, Kathryn, it was just a contest.” He says, not because the statement is true, but because he just wants her to stop crying.

“At first it was, but now it’s become something bigger.” Her eyes accuse him.

“Kathryn, you know I love you. I’ve always loved you.” He lets his own guard slip to match her sudden display, and his voice is choked with anguish, pleading with her.

“Not anymore you don’t. It’s obvious.” She refuses to acknowledge his words. Her silk robe has slipped to bare one shoulder, and she suddenly looks more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her.

He can’t stay in the room, can’t face her.

“I can’t believe you’re reacting this way.” He says, attempting to convert the sorrow in his voice to disgust. “You’re just saying this because you lost the bet.”

He turns and strides out of her room, hands trembling slightly, but her words find him, stab into his back as if she’d hurled a knife at him.

“Is that what you think?”

He opens his eyes, shaking his head slowly.

“Kathryn, it’s my fucking wedding day. Can you save your theatrics, put on this little performance another time?”

Her face twists.

“God, Sebastian. You’re giving little Miss Seventeen magazine the rest of your life, and you can’t spare me these last few minutes? You can’t face me, after what you did?”

“I didn’t do anything, Kathryn. I fell in love!”

“Oh, bullshit!” She spat, slamming down her emptied tumbler. “You weren’t in love with her. You’ve never loved her, you were just too proud to throw her away after you were done with her, too stubborn to admit that all she ever was to you was a stupid bet. A bet that we made!”

“Don’t talk about Annette like that!”

“I’ll talk about her however I please. God, Sebastian, look at yourself. Look at what you’re doing. You’re throwing your life away-”

The slap surprises them both. Sebastian takes a step back, looking at the red mark on Kathryn’s cheek, and feeling his palm tingling. She stares at him with wide eyes, still as a statue.

“So I wasn’t wrong.” She says softly. “You’re as unhappy with her as I thought, and you’re still going to go through with this.”

Sebastian collapses into a chair.

“Kathryn, I don’t have any other choice.” He says softly, and she moves to sit on his lap, hands moving gently through his hair.

“There’s always another choice.” She replies, and he buries his face in her neck, hating how trapped he feels.

“You don’t understand. I can’t just leave this. I’ve made my choice, and it’s too late for anything to change.”

She stops moving, reaches down and takes his hand in hers, placing it against her cheek, against the place where he slapped her.

He looks up at her, their faces inches apart.

“Do you ever think of how different it would have been, Kathryn? About how things should have played out, if we’d only been smarter?”

“You were so very infatuated with her, brother.” Kathryn said softly. “You forgot all about me.”

“And by the time I remembered, it was too late.” He admitted. “London was empty without you. So many times I wanted to come back but...but I didn’t think you wanted me.”

“I’ve always wanted you.”

“You scared me, Kathryn. I never wanted to admit that I was just like you.”

‘You and I are two of a kind. At least I have the guts to admit it.’

Kathryn stood, pulled him to his feet.

“Come away with me, Sebastian. Leave your Barbie doll bride behind, and let’s start again.”

He shook his head.

“It’s too late for this, dearest sister. My fate is sealed, my life is over.”

She stopped, eyes searching his.

“Kathryn, why did you come all the way to London?”

“I wanted to save you...but it appears I’ve come to attend your funeral.” Her eyes flashed and suddenly Sebastian is kissing her.

They are engulfed in flames and ice, burning hot, then cold, and Kathryn’s fingernails are digging into his hips, pulling him closer to her, and his hands tangle in her hair as their tongues dance together and everything falls away as he slams her up against the wall. She is like oxygen, it’s as if he’s been drowning all these years, pulled downwards by Annette and boredom, and he has finally broken the surface, and found Kathryn waiting there.

“Sebastian.” She gasps, as his lips travel downwards, nipping at her neck while he rips away her nylons.

“Kathryn.” He replies. “God, I should have done this so long ago.”

And they connect and Kathryn gasps, and the flames dance higher, and Sebastian barely hears the knock at the door, the voices calling for him to come to the altar. Reality, come to drag him back under the waves, come to pull him down and drown him, turn him into a walking zombie, a husband, probably a father, a drone that sleepwalks through life, unthinking.

And he calls to them that he’ll be just a minute, to please, just give him a minute, as he buries himself in Kathryn, breathing her, tasting her, holding her as he comes, as she comes, as their hearts meld together and the connection they’d once had was reformed.

He leans into her, still holding her against the wall, panting and out of breath, and Kathryn hums tenderly into his ear as she runs her fingers through his hair again and again.

“Don’t go, dear brother. Don’t play the fool.”

“I’ve no choice, Kathryn. I’ve come too far to back out.”

Neither of them move, reluctant to break connection. Kathryn’s legs are locked around his waist, and all Sebastian can think is that he’ll die when he vanishes again.

“Come home.” She says, and it is not a plea. Her eyes are fire again, and he feels each scratch, each bite throbbing, pleading with him to listen to her.

“Sebastian, you are mine. And I’m not willing to share you with her.”

“God, Kathryn. Why didn’t you come sooner? You were all I could see for so long, and now...now I’m afraid I’m practically blind.”

Kathryn chuckles.

“I remember when we first met, and you had that charming little stutter. I suppose that’s why you became so eloquent as you grew up, because you were never good at voicing your opinions when you were a child.”

“I never had to be, Kathryn. You used to voice my opinions for me.”

“We took such good care of each other for the longest time.” She said tenderly, kissing his lips. “Then you went away...”

“I wish I’d never done so. I wished I’d come back, whether or not you’d wanted me.”

“Sebastian...”

“Kathryn...”

They disentangle, straightening their clothes. The bite marks and scratches throb, as if intending to announcing his indiscretion to the world. Kathryn touches a finger to his lips and says, “Go talk to your fiancée, and tell her that you’ll be coming home with me, or I’ll do it for you. Sebastian, I won’t see you die, not again.”

He nods, then excuses himself to the bride’s room, where Annette is horrified at how disheveled he is. Sebastian sighs, and is suddenly reminded of the day he tried to leave her, that very first time.

How much better everything would have been if he’d stayed away after that, lost himself in Kathryn, let his life take it’s natural course, instead of chasing after Annette, instead of chasing after a pipedream.

“Annette...” He began, but is interrupted by the door clicking shut behind him, and he turns to see Kathryn.

“Annette.” She says, standing there, watching his bride-to-be with anger in her eyes.

“Kathryn.” Annette is shocked, despite herself. “How good to see you.”

Kathryn laughs.

“I’d say the same, but I’m not inclined to lie. I’m here to collect Sebastian.”

“Excuse me?”

“I let you run away with him before, let you steal him from me and bewitch him with all your babble about love and marriage. But I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand to see my Sebastian sleep-walking by your side, drugged into submission while you mold and force him into something that he’s not.”

“Kathryn, I’d never-”

“But you have.”

Annette turns to him.

“Is that how you feel?” She asks, blue eyes filling with tears, and Sebastian nods wordlessly.

“If you’ll excuse us-” Kathryn begins, taking Sebastian’s hand.

“Don’t you dare touch him, you bitch.” Annette spits, every inch of her shaking in anger. “You almost killed him, you threw him away, and now, when he’s finally happy, you come slithering back and you--”

Kathryn slaps her.

For a moment, no one in the room moves, then Kathryn chuckles.

“You were never for him. I don’t think you understand that, not really. He and I were soul mates from the moment we met, and you almost ruined that. Have some fucking dignity, and let go of what was never yours.”

Annette looks stunned, then turns her eyes to Sebastian, who gently removes his hands from Kathryn’s. He carefully pulls the veil away from Annette’s face, looking at her eyes.

“I only stayed with you because I thought she didn’t want me. I’m sorry, for wasting so much of your time.”

Annette dissolves into tears. She isn’t like Kathryn, with the desire to fight for what she wants, to refuse to let go, to never admit defeat. Annette is a pawn, in a game that women like Kathryn control, and when the games ends, women like Annette are never the victors.

“I’m sorry.” He says again, then takes Kathryn’s hand, and walks out of the church, down the London sidewalk.

And, as they pass an elderly couple, he hears the woman turn to her husband and say, “What a handsome couple, like angels in a painting. Don’t you agree?”

And Kathryn glances up at him, eyes laughing, lips twisted into a devilish smile, and Sebastian feels his lips instinctively mirror her expression, and he leans forward to kiss her, his laughter mingling with hers, wondering how anyone could mistake them for anything even close to angelic.